The Deadly Sins of a Phantom
by totchoakk
Summary: The war has ended, lives have been changed and will keep, nothing will be the same. The Hallows must be gathered. The war for Death's power will rage on, good and evil will joing, and the Sins will be done.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"That house is it. Right? I need to make sure I'm obliterating the right people. So is that the right house?" A man dressed in a black tailed coat asked. They were nothing more then shadows to everything around them. Even for the late hour, the lights were still on in the house proving that there was a family home, an unlucky family at that.

"Yes, that's be the house Silas, no, makin' a mockery of your self. In and out, that's all that need to be done." The other man said to Silas, he faced away from the house, he faced towered their neighbors across the street. They both wore masks, as white as an angel's wings. They were dressed as if they were going to some kind of dance, black gloves, white dress shirt, red vest, black tail coat, black pants, and wealthy looking shoes. The masks were what hid them from just formally dressed people. Something shown in those masks, like Death was looking threw at you and not the young men's eyes.

They both turned towered each other took a bow and went towered the houses they were previously looking at. A knife shown in Silas's hand, a sharp knife that could cut threw the air and make it scream with one simple flick. As he reached the door he stood still, flipped the knife so the sharp blade was held to his forearm. Silas took a moment to examine the door, nothing special about it, just another dark wood door, a nice glass window to look out of, but besides that nothing out of the ordinary. He was staling. His partner had already entered the other house across the street, but Silas stood there, unsure, uneasy of what he was about to do. It was his duty, it was his order from his Lord. After all he is a member of Hallows, he denied his Sins, so he could remain with his new found love, but this rested uneasy in his gut, it fell like a rock, when he was given this order. Now he regrets taking it.

Silas peered threw the front window off to the side, a man in a chair sat their, as his wife was in the kitchen. Oblivious, both of them, to the fate they were selected. And now the time has come. "They will _die,_ all of them. They all must _die."_ Silas repeated this in his head, he new there was going to be a twist, there is always a twist when _he _reminds you of that.

Silas took one last deep breath, and like a misted fog of shadows, he faded threw the door. His knife clinked with the door knob as he gathered to his form inside the warm house. No one heard him, no one has seen him.

"First victim will die unseen, unheard, but the wife will be the problem." Silas thought, he knew she would see him, let alone hear him. This quest had to be completed though, and time is running low on Silas behalf, he needed to make this a fast murder, a sloppy one. No matter how bad it is, they will all be dead. And if the Ministry did go after him, they wouldn't be able to catch him, or sentence him, to any of his thousand crimes. They'd blame the Death Eaters anyways. So there really was no sense in fearing for his lack of a clean kill. He just had to do it.

As he took his first few steps to the sitting man, he heard a noise on the stares.

"Children" Silas thought, "always children." He made a quick lunge into the living room straight towards the chair knowing his time was short. A quick, swift flick of his wrist, and the man was choking, and fell over dead. One clean slit threw the jugular and he was destined to die within the moments that it had happened.

Now the wife. She stood in the kitchen. Making dinner? Cleaning up from dinner? Silas did not know, nor did he really care, all that he knew is that as soon as he straightened up to stab her straight in the shoulder, a young girl came in, screamed then ran. Enough warning to the mother a bit to late though. For as she turned, the knife came down. Straight down. Into her heart, were all knives end up. She didn't die, at first, so the process was repeated until she fell to her knees, as Silas removed the knife she fell flat on her stomach, letting her blood pool the clean floor.

Now for the girl. Where did she run off to? Upstairs as he heard the foot steps shortly after the scream stopped echoing threw the house. Now he had only minutes to finish, for someone else had to hear that scream of horror. But where did she hide off to? Silas checked all the rooms, and found out that either, they were planning on a new baby or had just had one, for the last room he checked smelled of new arrival. This is when he discovered this wasn't going to be easy. If they had a baby, how could he kill it? While at the same time he is desperately pleading for one of his own.

These thoughts were corrupted as a small thud goes off in the room. "Closet, so obvious that there would be a hiding place, always in the closet." Silas new this for he had been on many missions in the past, with secrete hiding places. Most common is the closet.

"Time to come out, really hate to do this, believe me. But you see, _he_ has summoned you, I'm just delivering the message. Time to go…" Silas ripped the closet doors open as far as they would go, turned his head, and saw it as plain as day, a wood door sitting there with a slit of light shining threw. He reached forward and yanked on the handle, to revel a girl and an infant wrapped up in blankets.

"So terribly sorry, but, you must go now, I'm afraid the horse is waiting for you outside." With that the girl was dead and the baby started to cry.

It was a boy, no more then a few months old by now. Silas couldn't help but take him. How could anyone kill a poor infant such as this one? Not even a monster as terrible as Silas knew he was, couldn't bare to take the child's life. 'Stealing candy from a baby' was not a fraise Silas could ever live by, nor did he ever dare to say it himself. The child would come to the Graveyard with him, and would bare judgment there. And if the child had to be killed, Silas would most defiantly not be the one to do it.

"Silas! What be this? This foolish act! How dare you define my orders, break your duties! You have never, you shall never!" The voice seemed to come from a shadow directed at a standing skeleton, wearing a black cloak that was nothing more the ripped up rages. He seemed to have no face, just a mouth, for that is all that showed from under the black hood. His visible skin was a shade of gray, he was bone and skin, that is all. He seemed to have no blood flow, and when he twisted, or threw his hands a bought you could see every bone in his body, his ribs, his spine, all the joints on his fingers. His name was Death, he was Death Himself, the GrimReapper, the Crow of Night, Your last Breath. But to his order, the Hallows, he was Death Himself. Silas was a Phantom, always was, always will be one. This was murder to himself for disobeying Death's command.

"My Lord. I know I have broken law here, by bringing this infant back, but say be the worst you already know my plead. You know my gift I wish to receive, and yet you, my Lord, cant be worth enough to spare me the rest of my servings to raise one child?"

This is how it is going to end Silas knew it. Death always wins in the end, but this time, life would take over, this time the bride would show herself. This was a gut feeling Silas had but he knew, that the Lady on the Stallion hated caring babies over the bridge. They were all forbidden to say her name as everyone else didn't even know it, Death made sure, his willing bride, kept away from the life she granted. If there was one God, the Phantoms would be the last to know, for The Lady grants life which creates the child, the parents raise the child, Death takes the soul, and the Stallion caries thousands of people over the bridge and back constantly. Phantoms never get to ride that mighty Stallion, they never get to experience his true strength, they get to dream about it, and wish they weren't cursed.

"Out of the question! Not in a million years have _I_…"

"This wouldn't be _you, _my Lord, it would be me. I can leave this graveyard like any other Phantom. I can feed him, cloth him, teach him when he comes of age. I will be his father, if at least guardian."

"Oy' Silas, you do not content. A child, a simple infant, in a yard, a court if you would, of murders? Do you not see the threat it places here? The trouble that _will_ occur? What happens when that _thing_ comes of age, and asks question? He is bond to find out, that he is not one of us, nor will he be one." Death had taken his victory sitting. Death won like _always_, and he _always_ wins.

Silas didn't know what to do, he refused to kill the poor child. He couldn't bare to see it die by his doing, or Death's. He looked for a desperate answer. Maybe he could get out fast enough, before the Ghouls catch him and 'stork' the child. With that war going on and people out of there nut, children are barred to be left at some point now.

"I shall find him a new life, a new family, a better memory." a voice came from the wind before a figure of a young lady started to show, "Death my darling, you must not kill the poor child, he has suffered threw seeing murder, and your swift acts of judgment, he is only a few months old anyways. A simple re-birth, and I know the perfect mother! A perfect escape, a new breath, a destroyed memory. Will you except?" Silas's way out, Death would say yes. The child would live. The child must live. Death can never dyne the requests of his bride, he hasn't so far, and wont anytime soon. This mother wont even know the fate her child has already been scared to suffer, and Death will always dyne his name, until he announces it for the graves to rattle. This child will be a Phantom, only in time.

Death Himself nodded in agreement to his bride. She walked over in her silver silk gown, as all the moonlight is attracted to it, it shines it off like the stars at night. With gentle motherly hands she takes the baby, and climbs onto the Stallion, and like the ghosts it caries, it vanished into the night.

"The war will end, you shall live, it shall start again. In years time we shall meet again." Silas mumbled to himself, hoping this child will not face the fate that he has been killed to. In years time, he knows they will meet again. As the child's soul is taken up, and shared upon the new mother, he shall have a new life, a new family, a new memory.


	2. CH1 The Storms That Fallow

**Chapter 1**

**The Storms That Fallow**

"**Can't believe how time flies," Ginny said looking at the paper recalling what the day was, and how many fault full years have passed sense the Battle of Hogwarts. "seems like it happened forever ago. When it has only been 19 years. What do you think Harry?" **

"**Think what? Time has kind of slowed down, nothing spectacular has happened sense you know...besides the kids!" **

"**Lucky catch." Ginny replied to Harry with a smirk. **

**George, Bill, and Fleur were at a graveyard, standing, looking at a stone. They were at **_**that**_** graveyard looking at many stones, but there was one George refused to pass. George couldn't even look at he ground in front of the headstone that barred his dead twin's name. **

**Frederick Weasley**

**April 1st**** 1978 - May 2****nd**** 1998**

"It's been 19 years, and I still can't show myself here." George commented. His eyes were closed, tears ran down his cheeks. The pain George had felt when he saw his twin dead for the first time, and he knelt by his head, never left him. The pain had numbed over time, but was always still there, deep within him. Every time he entered the graveyard he felt sad, for in the front row Tonks and Lupin laid in the internal rest, but it wasn't until he made it three rows back, to see his other half, doing the same.

"Nobody said 19 years was gonna cover it, nobody said anyone would make it threw this, especially you." Bill said wrapping an arm around his younger brother's neck.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" George asked finally opening his eyes to look at Bill, who he noticed was gazing down on the headstone like it was something truly amazing.

"Wasn't tendin' for it to be, but if it was…"

"It wasn't." George removed his brother's arm from his neck, and sat down on the cool earth, using the headstone behind him as a backrest. Bill remained standing looking at his wife. She was kneeling at Tonks's grave, putting flowers down against the tall stone.

Ginny had wanted to come with, but for some resin was unable, but she did request that Fleur laid down some new flowers at the graves. She did Fred's first, and worked her way around the cemetery, finally ending at Tonks's.

"You boy's ready?" She yelled over towards them, as she stood up.

"Her English is got better, can actually understand her." George whispered to Bill, all he got as a response was smirk and light chuckle directed back at him. Bill held out a hand which George took as he stood up. This was the hardest part about coming to the graveyard. How could he leave? That was his twin, his mirror reflection, his other half, laying there 6ft under ground, and here he is coming and going. Those first few months, after Fred's death, George was ready to do the unthinkable. He wanted to die. He wanted his brother, to be with his brother. If it wasn't for Bill and Charlie, he would have too. He would be laying next to his brother, dead, but happy.

The two made their way threw the headstones, and as they reached the gates, George turned to take one last glance, then headed out after Bill and Fleur.

"You said you wouldn't summon him for another 14 plus years!" Silas was nothing more then a dark mist barley taking the form of a man. The cemetery was new, the souls were new. The racket Silas was making had made the new orbs rise from their coffins to see what exactly was going on, but they all quickly faded back down when two wings o black feathers appeared.

"Silas, I may summon who I wish, when I wish. And I did _NOT _summon your boy. I have had no intentions on any new member, or members, at all. This was the work of them." Death was standing in graveyard with all his glory, pointing a boney finger out at the graves. He wore the same thing he always was known to wear. His black, ripped, raged, cloak. Only this time he was in his prime. The wings of a crow, that were so recognizable, a muggle could have announced 'The Angel of Death' was coming.

"I'm sorry, my Lord." Silas, had no choice but to believe death, he had no choice but to believe that this was all _their_ faults. "It's a shame though, that he is buried away from what we intended him to be."

"And that would be?"

"My Lord, you said it yourself, let alone he will be the first. A Hallow, who wasn't a Death Eater. We are the original Death Eaters, and any new recruits you find worth of a Phantom, well, must now be a Death Eater. Its your law, my Lord." Silas said, he was now completely visible, and looked as if no older then the night he saved the baby boy. He still wore the same jacket, same shoes, same shirt, same vest, same everything, even the same white mask. Only now the mask had been cracked, and scratched, then stitched closed, to where the battle wounds had become something of true beauty, a work of death defying art.

"You almost sound like, you wish I don't give him his fate. Am I wrong Silas? I thought 19 years ago, you pleaded for a child. Now I give you him back and you rather have him lay dead?" Death stood mid cemetery, looking at all the headstones, counting all them.

"No, my Lord, I wish for him to be a Phantom, I just didn't know it would be, say soon-"

"50, or so." Death butted into Silas sentence, as if nothing Silas said meant anything, which it didn't, but Death liked to hear his followers words of dismay.

"Excuse me, Lord? 50 what?" Silas was desperately confused by his Lord's words. Out of no where he pulls a number, that had nothing to do with the conversation they were having about the new Phantom to be.

"50 traders. 50 souls to be accused. 50 lives lost. 50 more to ride the Stallion." Death moved toward the grave of the lad they were talking about. Silas stood still, unsure of what to do, of what to say. He had been threw this a million times, new Phantoms, old Phantoms, its all the same in Silas's eyes but this, this was different. This was his half son, blessed to be Phantom sense before he was born, and Silas didn't even know his name, his age, his rebirth date, what he looked like. Death, however, already knew what the boy looked like, his name, his age, his birth, his family, and his whole life. And now the knife finally showed from the sleeve of Death's cloak.

"50? Must have been some war -"

"Battle! Not a war. Not at 50 souls each. A war does not take less then its given, it always takes others."

"But this war did, my Lord. Yes only 50 or so souls rest here, but many more died then this one graveyard is showing. Didn't she tell you? All the souls she had to carry across on her Stallion. The Death Eaters doing, like before." Silas said as he took his spot next to his Lord. He stood still reading off the name on the headstone, then looked to Death.

"This is him." Death said spreading his black crow wings out, raising the knife in both hands above his head. As he did this Silas removed his mask and laid it in the center of the grave. His face matched his body, no older then 30, no younger then 25. He had almost a perfect face, besides the rough beaten skin that laid a few scratches on, there was no flaw about him. His hair wasn't quite black for it had a hint of scarlet in it. A few bangs dangled on his forehead, two of which made it just pass his eyes. Gray-blue eyes that twirled into pitch black, like his arrival from the shadows.

By the time Silas laid the mask down, every crack, every scratch, every dent was completely removed, the mask was if new. As if new, for a new Phantom. Silas stood back up and turned to face the rest of the graves, as he did he noticed that the little spheres of light were now people. All standing close to see what exactly was happening.

A black smoke spiraled around the cemetery, like a snake wrapping itself around its pray. Silas drew out his knife knowing that intruder ghosts would appear, as well as shadows, and ghouls, which were just a pain to deal with on a normal day. Nothing showed though, and the knife was dropped from Death's hands into the ground, then the swirl of black smoke reacted, digging its self into the grave, creating a shadow that came from nothing.

Silas turned away once again, wishing he could cover his ears as he heard it start. He remembered how it feels to be snatched, and split, torn back and forth. The feeling of blood rotting within, turning black with pain and misery. All the good that you have ever felt, all the joy, be slowly removed, from the soul. The soul is what makes you scream the hardest, it is what makes Death feel his power, even over the Phantoms. The way it feels, is actually what is happening. That shadow that slowly attacks the grave, the body, the soul, puts your soul into a holder, unbreakable, inaccessible. In there it slowly rots your soul, making you unable to die, but able to feel pain.

"The curse of a Phantom. Pitiful." Death finally said breaking the silence, as the grave slowly shifted, and the earth gave way to revile a coffin. "You have yet to see your child, well you have the honor of relocating him. Back to us." Death moved away, saw the ghost but made no gesture to them, and vanished within the darkness.

"Holy ground, wouldn't believe it, until now." A voice came from the dark, spooking some the ghost as others just turned their heads to the voice.

"What are you doing here? Thought you had a job to take care of LeStrain? Or are you already done?" Silas said not even hesitating to think who it was talking, or making any move towards the voice.

"My business tell you later. Are you gonna move him? Or stand there and cry? He's not dead dimwit." LeStrain said finally taking form into a young lady, with black hair.

'You know, you remind me of someone I once meet. I think I saw her name on the way here. Bellatrix? Yes, Bellatrix Lestrange. A Death Eater, killed during the war." Silas said turning to face his new guest.

"Oh, I've heard of her. One of the Azkaban break outs. Always hung around with Voldemort, until she was sent out. Now she lays dead you say?" LeStrain said shifting her way threw the graves, to stop at a larger headstone, and taking a set on top.

"No respect for the dead I can see. And yes, she lays dead. Over there at the other graveyard. Probably unblessed, with the factors considering. I will move him, just not yet."

"What makes now different from later? Besides the fact that the sun will rise, and we must ditch. The souls are our witnesses, and I'm pretty sure they don't know what's going on. Confused to whether or not they are actually dead. I want to have tickets…front row, to the first soul who tries to leave." LeStrain said, kicking her feet back and forth like a child, as she sat on top of the headstone, counting the ghost, and the graves. Silas swore her and Bellatrix could have been related, twins even. The same mess of hair, although LeStrain's was darker, same body form, same attitude towards everyone, the only difference between them was age, and life. LeStrain probably died around the time Bellatrix was born, and Bellatrix was a committed Death Eater, while LeStrain was committed to getting people out of trouble, and doing nothing.

"Have you found your name yet? Just a question I've been wanting to ask. You said you would find it for all your headstone says is LeStrain, nothing else. Any indent in cracking the case of who LeStrain is?" Silas said making his way back towards the coffin as he spoke, and standing right next to it, staring at the lid as if trying to see threw it.

"I'll open it, if you want. And I gave up on that. LeStrain is me. I don't care about my past anymore, I went threw my strikes. If coming back to life was that terrible to where I killed myself to get out of it, then I don't want to know anymore about it. So stop asking, I don't know anymore then you."

"Oh," Silas put both hands under the ridge of the coffin, and slowly moved it off. As he slid the lid off, the light from the moon showed onto the face of Silas's lost boy. Silas wasn't sure if he was happy or angry at the young man who laid in the coffin, but he knew he felt something deep down. "you know your not the only person in the world with a reflection."

"What's that supposed to mean?" LeStrain got off from the headstone, and walked over towards the coffin to view what Silas meant. "A reflection? Of whom?"

"Of _him_, almost identical, like you and Bellatrix." And with that Silas picked up the body, and allowed himself to become eaten into the shadows.

"Identical? Of whom? Find out soon enough, wont I. Holy ground brings ghosts, that's not fair. Perfect time to meet my other half. Storms are rolling in, planed to last for days. Mine as well bring the thunder to these storms that fallow." And with that said to no one, she vanished leaving only rolling shadows, and the silent boom of an up coming storm.


End file.
